When I Can't Lie Anymore
by northpeach
Summary: It takes just one night. One night that loosens his tongue and Skull can't lie anymore. Well, he can, but the selective blindness of his fellow ex-Arcobaleno vanished the instant he spoke the words, "I was a soldier." Now that they've seen his scars, from Voldemort, Malfoy Manor and the battles he's fought, now that they have seen the truth...everything changes.
1. Chapter 1

When the day came that Verde finally discovered a safe growth serum, five and a half (plus one mini-Sky) now Curse-free Arcobaleno gathered in the house that they had lived in with Luce, back in the days Before. Although it took several weeks for their adult forms to be returned to them, the mad scientist of the Lightening succeeded. Said Lightening also informed the Mist, Sun, Storm, Cloud, both Rains and the child Sky that they would have to remain in close quarters for at least a month before their Flames were stabilized.

Apparently forcing your body to shrink to a child's size and then back to an adult's was a bit much for their bodies.

Who would have guessed?

And so, they all unanimously decided to celebrate, by going to a bar in the nearest town and drinking as much alcohol as they could tolerate and randomly speak of things they had done before they became the Strongest Seven. Their unanimous decision also included keeping Yuni away from said alcohol.

Unfortunately, they were looking for a bit of fun so they naturally decided to have Skull go first. After all, he was only a stuntman with a baby-face, made even more child-like since he neglected to put in his piercings, so his life story would probably be pretty mild and something to laugh at. Maybe some sob story about running away to the circus to become famous or the like. Sure, there might be some low points, but they were Mafia, their hands were all bloodied.

Unfortunately for their bit of fun, which Skull was perfectly willing to give, along with the run-away-to-the-circus clique, thirty years tended to dull some memories. Normally it would have been since Skull, with his pure Flames, couldn't get drunk very easily. So Skull, forgetting that now he was an adult again, also forgot that his magical core would be fully formed and unless he deliberately sought out his Flames, his magic would be his primary healing source.

Funny thing about wizards and witches was that yes, sugar was important for all the energy usage, but also that magicals get drunk with astonishingly little effort due to the sugar in most alcohol.

"Oi Skull!" Colonello yelled from across the table, blue eyes shining in curiosity, "The hell're you even doin' before Checkerface got a hold of you, kora?"

Instantly, the youth's face crumbled and he began to sob, prompting the sniper to facepalmed and turn to Reborn leveled a look to the hitman.

"I said before that the lackey would be one of those lightweight, emotional drunks, didn't I, kora?!"

Lal, surprisingly curious to Skull's answer, swatted him upside the head.

The purple-haired man-boy really- began to speak, but the words that came out of his mouth were the ones that none of the Arcobaleno had even considered in their wildest imaginations.

"I was a soldier," their little lackey said, his words barely slurring.

The hum of conversation and merriment instantly vanished from their table as the former Arcobaleno registered exactly what their _weak, cowardly_ Cloud just said. They would have dismissed his words if not for the glazed quality to his glimmering purple eyes and the tears steadily sliding down his checks.

Paying no mind to the expressions on their faces, Skull continued with a bitter twist to his mouth.

"It was just my luck, ya know? The whole thing. Like a fairy tale. I was n'ver a child, just worker to do 'is job, no better'n a house-elf. 'Course, it wasn't Dumbledore's fault my relative hated my existence, _oh no_ , _never_ Dumbledore's fault," Skull spat with disgust, waving a hand about and only just missing knocking over his drink.

"I didn't even _know_ anythin' save my cupboard and chores, freaks don't deserve nuthin', that's what I was always told. That changed when I turned eleven though, 'agrid came for me. Told me more about myself then P'tunia ever did in the decade I lived with her. Didn't know I was famous for surviving that mad man while he went about slaughtering everyone else, m'parents included."

With a sad, wet sigh, Skull knocked back another drink, eyes firmly fixed on the polished wood of the table. He did not look at his companions whose silence was a weight in the air, their attention entirely fixated on him. Then again, he was too drunk at the moment to care, ignoring the warnings screaming in the back of his head he continued with his first year at Hogwarts.

"I was eleven when I first killed someone. He made sure he told me it was self-defense, it was gonna happen _anyway_ , good job, glad you woke up. Made _sure_ that I understand that _he_ would have returned to start the war again. 'Mione cried and Ron told me he would never let that 'appen to me again. I wished I could've believed them," he whispered almost to himself, absently wiping his cheeks and smearing makeup onto the bandages decorating his face. Skull straightening in his chair, his gazing going to the ceiling, still resolvedly ignoring the eyes he could feel burning into him.

"Twelve wasn't so bad, even if Forge and Gred had to kidnap me from those people's house. Bars on my windows and meals from the cat-flap. If it weren't for their mother, I'd starved that time for sure. School wasn't any better with the Founder's pet running through the pipes trying kill everyone, and everyone convinced I was evil incarnate _jus_ ' 'cause I could speak ta snakes. It wasn't Ginny's fault either," the Cloud said, his voice turning into steel as he looked down to stare at his hands, "Some people pour their souls into things."

Viper gave a start out of the corner of his eyes and the alarms in the back of his head blared louder, but Skull found the words just kept coming.

"The basilisk was over a thousand years old with the ability to kill anyone it looked at, which is why an indirect look would only 'cause petrifaction. Thought I was gonna die that time, jus' about did but Fawkes got there in time and slashed out its eyes. Killed it with Godric Gryffindor's sword I did, even if the damn thing bit me. Now I was positive I was gonna die, but Fawkes came and healed me and there might have been Flames too, but I don't really remember that well."

A frown crossed his face as he thought on what the Professors and Lucius Malfoy had done when he had stormed into the Headmaster's office dripping with basilisk blood, that black icor that came out of the Diary and dragging two exhausted Wealseys' behind him, all the while clutching the Gryffindor sword.

"I didn't realize it at the time, but that was the year I finally learned I couldn't trust anyone save for 'Mione, Ron, though only a few others earned it…" he mused aloud as for a brief instant his face relaxed it's lines, right before a bitter smile spread across his face at the thought of the next year.

"Thirteen is when I discovered the traitor that sold m'parents out was living pretty while m'godfather was sittin' in the worst prison in Britain, totally innocent and blaming himself even as he slowly went mad. 'Course, _that_ wasn't Dumbledore's fault either, oh _no_ , 'cause even if he _did_ have the power to grant him his _legal rights_ , m'godfather was from a bad family and he was just a _Black_ after all and _Blacks_ are all _mad_. Remus was 'is friend and he was m'dad's too so he was something of an uncle. He believed in Sirius, once the rat was found."

He laughed, hollow and almost broken.

"Four times I spent time with my dogfather, he was my only livin' family member left 'til _Bellatrix_ killed 'im. Lovely thing that, _family_ ," Skull spat out with hatred as his eyes gleamed in the light. "Jus' 'cause they _thought_ I was a _child_ and _adults_ know better than _children_ , ya know? Screw that _bullshit._ I had made sure, even with Um _bitch_ that every single child knew _exactly_ what was happening around them and how to defend themselves and keep other safe and _take down every single scum that tried to kill them._ "

The rage and pride shining in his face was a thing to behold as Skull's fists curled and tears began to swim in his eyes as he spoke in a lower tone.

"That was fifth year, but it was fourth year that made me understand that I couldn't afford to be so lazy anymore. It was my name that was chosen, fourth out of three. I told them all I was only fourteen, not seventeen, I couldn't participate, but they all said, 'of course he put his name up, he's only an attention-seeking _child_.' They forced me to compete anyways and I fought and got burned and they took Ron and 'Mione to the bottom of the lake and I got Cedric killed, but _I survived_."

If Skull had been sober, he would have most likely stayed in that mindset and probably spent much longer thinking of Cedric Diggory, but as he was drunk he was, his mind took him to the aftermath, rambling on into the next part of his life.

"They all lead a smear campaign on me how I was going dark, gonna be the next Voldemort and I started dreaming and _that toad_ made us write lines that carved them on the back of our hands. I made sure that I was the loudest and told everyone to keep quiet, especially after McGonagall told me to keep my head down when I tried to tell her. The Slytherins from the DA, those I trained made sure to raid the infirmary for medical supplies after one of ours was threatened with her mom's job at the Ministry. Forge and Gred went out with a bang, I gave them my winnings so they could start a joke shop. They knew enough to start making things to help with the DA since they were free now. We survived almost to the end of the year. But there…"

Skull's voice trailed off and he coughed harshly before he spoke again.

"I had dreams, dreams of the _killing_ and the _torture_ and the _blood_ , every single night and I was a _mess._ And then, then I saw Sirius. And I wasn't going to lose him, I wasn't going to let them _kill him_!"

'Mione and Ron, the others I trained, those that believed me, those that were willing to risk their lives, they came with me. Nev, Luna and Ginny, we all took off in the middle of the night and made it to the Ministry, to the Department of Mysteries. And it was a trap. Sirius died, but now the Ministry couldn't deny _that he_ _was back._ I wasn't a liar, but Sirius was dead.

Yanking a hand across his tear-stained cheeks, he reached for another shot and downed that before he continued, his voice hoarse.

"Even though 'Mione took care of Umbitch before we left for the Ministry, the next year was worse. Snape killed Dumbledore so Draco didn'tve to, he swore to protect him and Voldemort got his hands on him. Marked 'im, ya know? Poor, _stupid_ Draco. So Snape became the Headmaster. We, Ron, 'Mione and I, went on the run some time after that…just after Bill and Fleur's wedding and George lost an ear and Mad-Eye's death. Remus and Tonks got married and the ministry was attacked and there went the Minister. It was just Death Eaters in power then. A successful coup d'etat. "

Skull paused then, relaxing his body and easing his feet to the floor as he finally leveled his gaze towards the former Arcobaleno as they stared at him in something akin to horror and shock. The slur in his voice faded and his tone was soft, yet hard as steel.

"Traitors, they called us. Undesirable No. 1. with a list of crimes against the government. They plastered my picture everywhere, put a price on my head. Just my head. Ron was worried about his family, but he stuck by me. And 'Mione, oh 'Mione was always the cleverest. She sent her parents away and had already packed just in case we needed to leave. All three of us had things we always kept on our person, but she made sure we had everything and extras. There were things we needed to find, to end _him,_ once and for all. We ran from the Snatchers for a year you know. Got caught and tortured a couple times, but we always managed to escape. It wasn't until they caught us and dragged us to Draco, his father and Bellatrix that we finally had to stop. Malfoy Manor was literally a fortress in its day. There wasn't anyway we were gonna to escape that place on our own."

All emotion vanished from the one they had all called weak and spineless, he looked as if he was carved from stone as he continued in a flat voice.

"They threw us in the dungeon and we stayed there, listening to 'Mione's screams for what seemed like hours. And then, when they stopped, they brought in Ron. He was screaming. Screaming as they dragged him away, screaming as he saw what they did to 'Mione. He was in love with her, everyone knew it," he paused and pride touched his face, "He stopped screaming when they started in him though. Didn't make a sound."

Skull lifted his stare to the head of the table, not meeting Reborn's eyes yet giving the impression that he was speaking to him.

"When they brought me in, I thought they were dead. They were lying on the floor, blood on their faces, on her arms and on his chest. Bellatrix was smiling and laughing, but Draco… Draco was different and he let me win when I was fighting him. I don't really remember what happened but I'm pretty sure I killed all the Snatchers. I couldn't go after Bellatrix though. Dobby came and took us away. He took us to Bill and Fleur's house. He got us out, but he died because of it. I made sure to bury him properly on the seashore. I must have sat there for hours before Remus came by and told me he had a son. They named him Teddy and asked if I could be the godfather. I said 'yes', even though I knew where we would be heading. I knew I probably wasn't going to survive to raise him, but I hoped I wouldn't have to."

Holding the direction of his gaze for a moment longer, he turned away and lowered his voice.

"We got a lead to the next place we needed to go. We three and a banker set out to rob a bank that had never been successfully robbed in all its centuries of existence. We pulled that off surprisingly, children barely even adults doing what so many before us had failed. Then again, there was a treaty in place that kept Gringotts and us apart and with the war, who knows? Maybe they were helping us. In the end, we survived and returned to our school. The Defense Association, those I had trained had set up a resistance. There were people from all four Houses, working together under those that we left behind. Nev, Luna and Ginny. They saved as many of the younger children as they could, waiting until I could get there, while gathering information and recruiting those who found that service in their Lord's army wasn't quite what they thought it would be."

Skull didn't bother with the alcohol any longer, too long in the memories of his past and shadows slithered across his eyes.

"It was war then. Us pouring over all the information we collected, listening to reports from Fred, George and Lee's radio program. We found maps of our school and rationed food, medical supplies and blankets. Last minute training and the like. Then I called all of them, all those who stood for me, believed in him and they all lined up under their general. I think I gave a speech, I can't quite remember. Little toy solider boys, all prepared to defend their home. And then _he_ came. And Fred died. Remus and Tonks too. Lavender and Colin. The younger ones were protected, mostly. My soldiers were strong, but they were against classmates, friends and family. My Slytherins especially, they saw their parents killing and fighting and they were on the other side. It was war and they fought hard. At the end of the day, there was a break. _That creature_ called for a ceasefire to bury our dead and tend to our wounded. But he also called for me to come to him. Offered to end it all and save everyone. Just me, he wanted."

Skull fell silent.

The others still hadn't spoken a word and had barely moved. It was Yuni, who had been quietly sequestered in the corner of the table that spoke up, her voice soft and pained, but strongly determined.

"What happened next, Skull?"

The Cloud threw back his head and laughed, the edge of hysteria clearly heard in ringing tones.

"What do ya think happened? I stepped over the bodies of my friends and faces I knew and people I had promised and I walked straight to my death. He lied, of course, but it didn't matter in the end. Turns out I was bloody immortal."

He shot a glare at Verde, vaguely triumphant and smug.

"You didn't believe me when I first told you, I saw it in your eyes. You thought I was just some kid with unusually pure Flames playing a game, when really the only reason I was into stunts was that I hoped a fall would kill me one day. I am called the Immortal Skull for a damn reason, as in I have walked away from things that should have killed me. Although that part about Death hating me isn't really true. You can't hate someone you can't see or find and who delivered a death cheater to you."

"And what happened after that?"

The Cloud shot a broken, bitter smile with an edge of amusement at the girl, the little Sky who insisted for the end for his story.

"I woke up and killed him."

Another large gulp of alcohol and he continued with, "And then everyone who had collectively hailed me as their Savior, targeted me as the next coming of the Dark Lord. They devoted their entire front page to denouncing me as a liar and an attention seeking brat only to find out I was right, before Voldemort took over the ministry and demanded they print I was a traitor. Which they did, but after he was actually dead, and Britain hailed me again as their Savior they jumped right back on my bandwagon. Until about a month later when I tried to commit suicide and it was found out that I couldn't die for unnatural causes. The DA didn't care. Most of those who fought with me didn't care, but everyone else? Every single adult who sat home and didn't lift a finger to help, to try to do something? They concluded I must be a new Dark Lord in the making. So I left. Being a stuntman wasn't like flying, but it was pretty close and I vaguely hoped a fall would end me some day."

With a flourish, Skull stood, astonishingly steady for someone who had consumed as much alcohol as he had in so little time, and set the empty bottle on the table.

"Alas that didn't happen. Thank you, Potter Luck for leading Checkerface straight to me. We were all cursed into the bodies of infants and I was physically incapable of taking care of my godson so I gave him back to his grandmother. I used letters and my Patronus to keep in touch with my other friends, but Teddy always knew my secret. When they married and had kids, I would drop by and listen as they told stories about me to their children. I always left gifts and appeared if they truly needed me, but I tried to keep out of sight. And here I am, the Curse broken and still looking as I did all those years ago."

He gave a soft laugh, a fragile smile stretching his cheeks.

"Teddy grew up and married Bill's daughter. Draco's son is in love with Ron and 'Mione's daughter and they're still telling stories about me, how brave and noble I was. How strong and how _I cared so much._ But here I am, trying so hard to forget the memories I have and I still wake up screaming every night if I don't take Dreamless Sleep doesn't help matters."

Skull laughed, hollow, bitter and broken to which most sitting at the table flinched at. With a slickly flourish, he bowed, his features twisting into a sneer that accented youthful feature of his face that his normal makeup had been taken only just off.

"And that is the life story of Skull DeMort, the Lackey, ignorant naive and spineless coward, the weakest of the Arcobaleno."

He laughed again, shoving his chair back from the table as if it leave and as the former Arcobaleno surged to their feet in protest, Skull's knees gave out and he crumbled to the ground. He moaned lowly in his throat and managed to mumble a pleading few words to whoever was holding him.

"…don't remember."

…

When Harry James Potter woke in the very late afternoon with the worst headache in three decades, his annoyed groan turned more into pitiful moan. Thankfully, he remembered having this wonderful quirk of being a powerful wizard such as himself and with a beautiful combination of magic and Flames, reduced his headache to an acceptable pain level. His mouth was as dry as ashes so he carefully hurled himself out of bed, ignoring the way the Earth was spinning and wretched open his door. The blinding light of noon day sun almost changed his mind, but he could smell coffee. Coffee was necessary for continued functioning.

He didn't notice, as he stumbled through the dining room trying to get to the kitchen, as every eye turned towards him and conversation died. His brain was incapable of thinking of anything save his need for some form of liquid. Preferably coffee. Or water. Unfortunately, several obstacles were in his way, including navigating the kitchen. Although just as he passed the table, a hand shot out, holding a hot mug of coffee in silence.

Unused to being offered anything, both with and without side remarks, as he was usually the one doing the offering, he could only stare stupidly at the wonderfully smelling, life-giving drink that was in the cup. He blinked, absently wondering if he was still dreaming. So he blinked again.

Yup, still there. Also the significant lack of both remembered and mentally felt pain, death and blood was an obvious sign.

With exaggerated movements, he reached out to cradle his cold fingers against the warmth and sipped slowly at heaven. To his still fuzzy brain, when a chair suddenly presented itself he only blinked once, accepting this miracles occurrence, before sitting down.

And thus once Harry Potter, now Skull DeMort sat in blissful silence at the table, drinking coffee, unconcerned by how chilly it seemed and unbothered by the many pairs of eyes glued to all the scars on display on his shirtless chest. He was also unconcerned at the detention words on his hands, the _Avada Kadavra_ scar on his heart, the whip lashes visible on his shoulders and the burn marks dotting his arms. The lack of his usual obscuring makeup and strategically placed bandages was not crossing his mind at all.

And he gave zero damns to the Deathly Hallow mark that was branded high on his chest, right smack dab in the middle, almost in line with the scar over his heart. It didn't even cross his mind.

It took a full thirty seconds of uncharacteristic silence from the Arcobaleno for him to realize he wasn't wearing his gloves. Further observation revealed no coverings on his body, save for a pair of soft sweatpants. He frowned, staring at pale skin, the sight not really computing with his brain as alarm bells faintly rung in the back of his head.

"Skull?"

At the, dare he say, _tentative_ use of his name from _Lal Mirch_ , he slowly looked up from his puzzled look at his uncovered skin. Was she going to take his coffee away? He stared blankly at Lal who was looking at him with…with _concern?_ His gaze moved on to Colonello who was staring at him much in the manner of his lover…but he was looking away? In… _guilt?_

Harry blinked, slowly and deliberately before a shimmer of orange caught his eye and he shifted his confused gaze toward the little Sky. Like a bolt of lightening, the fog in his head cleared and every single warning and alarm now blared into his head of his current situation.

He got drunk last night. The ensuing word vomit revealed his closely guarded secrets he had spent the last thirty-some years keeping, if the still foggy memories were to be trusted.

He distinctly remembered falling.

They were back at the house, so clearly he had been taken back, but in the process they had _stripped him_ and _seen his scars._

Scars he had made more visible by walking about of his room _shirtless_ , like a lunatic and his brain had not even computed the fact that he _never_ took a _single article_ of clothing _off_ in the presence of _others_ … **ever.**

Regardless of what had just happened, his thoughts were clear now and realization was dawning, which was followed closely by horror.

 _They know my secrets._


	2. Chapter 2

Reborn is many things. Brilliant and ruthless, polite and utterly charming. Although, most who have seen or interacted with him could tell you that.

The way he talks, dresses and even the way his black eyes glitter, a look of _knowing_ deep within them, those things lead to rumors and tell him the way others see him. Reborn encourages the masses to do so, also the rumors he can read minds. He can't, not in the way they think, but he can see their thoughts painted so clearly on their faces and in every single movement of their bodies. He can _read_ people and it is a skill he has honed into a considerable asset.

Some say he is arrogant, he claims confidence, but doesn't deny the accusation. He is a dark perfection, with soft and hard lines, a dangerous and sensual air about him. Reborn is arrogant, confident, _dangerous,_ but while he prides himself on every single one of his skills, there is one he thinks triumphs over the rest.

It is his ability to _see._ To _notice_ and _remember._

From learning languages or complicated equations to how he handles his weapons, from the bullets to his Flames, Reborn knows _exactly_ what he can do and what others around him react to what he can do. He's learned to read people as easy as a book and he is confident in that ability of his.

So when Skull's face crumpled into sorrow and tears began to gather in his eyes, Reborn was fully prepared for the run-away-to-the-circus-for-some-unimportant-reason story. The lackey probably grew up in foster care or was the youngest of several children, either way, he is only paying attention to ease his idle curiosity. So when Lal silences Colonello, prompting Skull to answer he says through his tears,

" _I was a soldier,"_

Reborn's carefully crafted world came to an abrupt halt. His easy, relaxed smirk slides right off his face and he snaps to attention, something clenching painfully in his gut. He knows the stuntman isn't lying, _can't be lying,_ because Reborn _sees_ lies just as easily as he sees people and everything in him is screaming, _why didn't I see this?_

For an instant, his doubts every single things he's seen in Skull, but just as quick his world reaffirms and he nails his gaze to Skull. It's as if he's taken off a pair of sunglasses. Everything is clear. He can _see it_ now. He sees the shadows in his eyes and the faint bruises under them ( _nightmares_ ), sees it in the line of his shoulders ( _pulled up and defensively_ ) and a sudden thought strikes him.

Never has any of them, himself included, _ever_ seen any of Skull's skin, save for face, his feet and occasionally his fingers.

 _He hides his scars._

Horror is dawning in the hitman and he stills, shutting out outside distractions to focus on Skull's words and see the proof in so many things he _missed for thirty-three damn years._

And Skull ignores him _(Reborn-sempai!),_ ignores them all and talks about his early child- ( _he hasn't had a childhood)_ his early life, about his _cupboard_ ( _abuse, neglect, emotional and physical - starvation?_ ), and Reborn can see it all now.

Never once did Skull ever shield away from his kicks, his punches, anything except occasionally what he threw or shot at him. It's like a sharp kick to his gut, the sudden stop of his breath, that feeling that's screaming inside him, thatjust got worse because he _knows soldiers_ and a part of his brain start cataloging information he has previously ignored.

 _Survivor's guilt. Disassociation with reality. Post-traumatic stress disorder. Depression. Self-esteem issues...no, rather a lack of value placed on his own life...suicidal._

That was how Skull could keep up this act, keeping in character so thoroughly and long-lasting as he played the idiot. He wasn't associating the current events around him as reality that was occuring that moment and happening _to_ him. That was why Skull had never touched a gun, never showed resistance and always fought hand-to-hand or with his Flames or with his animal companion.

And Skull just continued to speak of lies and subtle manipulations _(Dumbledore - a figure in authority who carefully manipulated events…_ ), of death and _torture_ as if it _was nothing_. Of running to _survive from a hostile government_ , being asked to be a child's godfather after he grew up with zero parental love or guidance, basically raising himself, then raising others to _survive a damn war._ As a teenager, barely able to be called an adult _(trust issues, focus specifically on adults in positions of power and authority)._

And then he said the mad man's name.

 _Voldemort._

Reborn almost shattered the table from the force of his hand clenching, but he forced himself to be still.

 _ **Voldemort**_ _. As in the half-way immortal_ _ **wizard**_ _that all of Great Britain was too scared to_ _ **say his name**_ _much less_ _ **raise a single wand against?**_

And still he spoke of the castle, what he called home ( _Hogwarts_ ) falling down and the bodies of children he had trained. Of the death and destruction of everything he had fought so hard to keep, doing the best he could have done with almost nothing.

Reborn, if he were a lesser mortal, would have wept when he realized just exactly what the boy ( _not a boy, only a man in a child's body)_ he had once though of as his lackey was speaking of. What he was _saying._

Skull DeMort was telling them that he was Harry Potter.

 _Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, Man-Who-Conquered._

As in survived _the killing curse._

 _Twice._

Reborn was not as informed into the magical world as Viper was, but everyone who was anyone knew of the story of Harry James Potter. When he had disappeared all those years ago, one Luna Lovegood had published the only Harry Potter article that provided answers. Answers of Horcruxes and basilisks, Voldemort _with schoolchildren_ , _a teacher_ _**torturing**_ said schoolchildren under the guise of detention _(Ministry-approved, attempting to silence rumors and whispers of Voldemort's return)._ Lovegood had pointed out all those who called Potter a lair, an attention seeking brat; those that demonized him and believed everything written in _The Daily Prophet_ had never left the safety of their home to go out and fight a war. It was _the children_ that did that. Most hadn't _even graduated_ from Hogwarts. She then wrote the single most damning piece explaining just what exactly the Boy-Who-Lived sacrificed for everyone when she described how Harry Potter walked into the Forbidden Forest on the ground of Hogwarts and faced in death in order to spare the lives of those that remained behind to fight with him. Horcruxes were mentioned in vivid details, only sparing the actual method on how to make them.

Magical Britain was _horrified._

Magical Every-Where-Else? Really, really _angry_.

Hell, even Reborn had been infuriated because the Ministry of Magic in Britain had _forced_ _children_ to fight a war for their country while said country was calling them traitors and liars and attempting to kill them, all the while denying the reemergence of the man who had began the first Blood War in the 70ies.

When Skull speaks of a godson, he remembers the day he told their Cloud, _his_ Cloud that he would be a horrible parent. Told him he should have been glad he had no one. He doesn't flinch and he doesn't cringe. But, oh, he _wants_ to. To show a bit of weakness to the b- to the man spilling his secrets. ( _With remarkable ease and brightly dulled eyes…)_

So when the Cloud stood up and turned around and said,

 _"And that is the life story of Skull DeMort, the Lackey, the ignorant and spineless coward, the weakest of the Arcobaleno."_

The Sun felt as if he'd been punched in the gut at _his words_ thrown back in his face so casually, the look on his face speaking of resigned acceptance and bitterness.

Despite his stillness, the lack of emotions on his own face and the fact that he was sitting the farthest away, Reborn was the first one to reach Skull when he collapsed to the ground.

…

" _I was a soldier."_

Fon blinked. And quickly glanced down to his hot cup of soothing tea still steaming in his hand. He blinked again, his attention snapping back to the purple-haired youth's as the words began to make sense to him again.

 _"I was eleven when I first killed someone. He made sure he told me it was self-defense, it was gonna happen anyway, good job, glad you woke up."_

Fon remembers I-Pin, on the day he found her. Alone and covered in blood. Hadn't she said something like that too? Something about people telling her it was a good thing she had killed someone?

He felt sick.

With a delicate ' _click'_ , Fon set down his teacup and ignored the way every word Skull added to his already growing horror story, his Flames started leaping and swirling and demanding release.

 _"… he was my only livin' family member left 'til Bellatrix killed 'im. Lovely thing that,_ family _. Jus' 'cause they thought I was a child and adults know better than children..._ "

Fon remembers. He remembers very well in the Triads when adults didn't believe children and people died. He remembers those feelings and the dead, how could he even begin to forget _that?_ He looks at Skull again and sees the blankness in his gaze even as he still shows emotions so clearly on his face.

 _"They threw us in the dungeon and we stayed there, listening to 'Mione's screams for what seemed like hours. And then, when they stopped, they brought in Ron. He was screaming. Screaming as they dragged him away, screaming as he saw what they did to 'Mione. He was in love with her, everyone knew it. He stopped screaming when they started in him though. Didn't make a sound."_

The Storm remembers that, remembers hearing people he cared about _scream_ but he could do nothing. That was when he found his Flames. That day his calm revealed a storm. Even though he killed every single last person who _hurt_ _his own,_ the memories still lingered.

When the Cloud lifts his so very blank eyes to not-look at Reborn and speaks in a soft tone of the very last link the man has to _family_ asking him to be a godfather to _his son_ , Fon closes his eyes and wishes he could cry. Instead he simply breathes and let's Skull's words wash through him. Then Yuni speaks, prodding gently what happened and he resists the urge to cover his ears. It's too late anyways.

 _"I stepped over the bodies of my friends and faces I knew and people I had promised and I walked straight to my death. He lied, of course, but it didn't matter in the end. Turns out I was bloody immortal._

Fon remembers that too. The Triads were unforgiving so it wasn't uncommon that you stepped over the bodies of people you knew. It's why he left as soon as he could, became strong so no one could drag him back. So the Triads couldn't hold onto him anymore. And here is Skull, still looking so much like the boy he must have been, opening old wounds and bringing up memories that make his heart ache.

When the word ' _suicide'_ falls so naturally and without inflection from their Cloud's mouth, Fon half wishes he didn't know. He didn't contribute to Skull's abuse by Reborn and Colonello. He didn't order him around and put him down, but he didn't stop it either. He drank tea with him sometimes. In the early morning hours and in silence. Fon said nothing.

So the moment as Skull drops to the floor, Reborn is up and moving and he's not far behind.

…

Viper has always had a little black book dedicated to his fellow Arcobaleno. Blackmail is useful after all. It holds everything she knows about all of them. From the rumors and the whispers, to what they say themselves.

Reborn's book is the longest and least detailed, save for his appearance and his normal behavior.

Skull's? Skull's book was covered in writing for the first five pages before Viper just stopped. There was no reason to keep blackmail on someone you simply had to glare and order to do something for you.

Viper was severely regretting that right now as he listened in disbelief as Skull spoke of abuse, a teacher he killed, of adults he couldn't trust and for an instant, she was angry. Of course, this changed dramatically when the name, ' _Voldemort_ ' fell casually from his lips.

She flinched.

Viper couldn't help it.

The child of a noble and ancient family, one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, born to two purebloods…as a squib. Her blood, his pure blood, was _lacking_ and she remembers that one time before his 'family _'_ knew of her condition, that man brought the Dark Lord to his house. She had been fearless after meeting him. There couldn't be anything in this world that would scare him, save being poisoned, more than that man reeking of Dark Magic, of blood and darkness, filling the air with the smell of _death_.

Viper remembers when the Boy-Who-Lived survived _Avada Kedavra_ and she didn't have to run or hide anymore. He wept that night, that Halloween night, tears of relief and happiness. She remembers even better when _The Daily Prophet_ proclaimed Harry James Potter a "lying, attention seeking little brat" because he claimed Voldemort had come back to life, had killed Cedric Diggory and was going to start the Blood War all over again.

She changed his name to Viper and moved to muggle Paris, using her beautiful Mist Flames to hide all traces of his magic that appeared after her discovery of said Flames. Two years later when she heard Harry Potter had defeated the Dark Lord, this time _forever_ , she didn't cry. Rather she celebrated. She cast off her cowl and cloak, donned a dress, did her hair and went out.

Viper had the newspaper clippings from decades ago saying the Dark Lord was dead. He has both, actually. He knows perfectly well, if it wasn't for Potter, they would have come for him. And she would have died no matter how strong she got. Oh, sure, it would have taken time, he would definitely take some with her, but even she couldn't stand against another of Black blood. Bellatrix was insane enough to not care about silly things like family. Especially those that did not possess the _right_ of magic.

To hear _Skull_ , the _weakest_ Arcobaleno, actually _say the Dark Lord's name,_ without flinching, was almost humiliating. Until she began to understand what he was saying. What he was talking about.

Viper's eyes widened unseen under cloth as her mouth fell open in shock and horror with a tinge of awe.

 _It couldn't be. It **can't** be. It's impossible._

Viper was mouthing denials in every language she could think of as she stared at Skull _DeMort._

 _Godric Gryffindor_

 ** _Slytherin._**

 _Cedric._

 _Remus._

 _ **Gringotts**_

 _Bill. Fleur._

 _'Mione, short for Hermione._

 _Ron._

 _ **Draco.**_

 _ **Bellatrix.**_

 _ **Sirirus.**_

 _Snape._

 _Dumbledore._

 _Death Eaters._

Proof. Undeniable proof.

So when Skull stood up and fall right back down, Viper was left sitting there as the rest of her Arcobaleno compatriots leapt up, straight to him. She couldn't understand how they could do that. Skull was- _Skull was…_

He couldn't finish that sentence.

…

Verde is a man of science. He doesn't believe in anything or anyone, not in heaven or hell, reincarnation or gods and goddesses. He believes, he has to when it's right in front of his face, in Flames. But he wants to know how they come about, so he studies them. And he studies other Flames and invents and learns things that make him happy or frustrated. But he's a scientist.

So when an arrogant child with dyed hair and colored contacts sits down at the table with other noteworthy people, including himself, and announces he is the 'Great Immortal Skull-sama, that even Death hates!' Verde resists the urge to kidnap him and study his Flames. Because obviously his Flames give him great durability and accelerates his healing to somewhere around days instead of weeks and months.

Before he gets his chance, Skull somehow gets a hold of a contract stating that Verde will never touch him or take samples for Flames or blood etc. etc., unless Skull gives his permission willingly, that is _miraculously_ signed and _sealed_ with _his_ signature and _his_ Flames. It is a very detailed contract. He is shocked when he tests the Flames and the hand writing because he really doesn't remember signing this at all.

So he just levels a glare at the child, ignoring the strangely solemn and formal 'my apologies' the Cloud murmured to him and stalks out, vowing to never touch said Cloud even if he were to beg.

Not even when Skull is bleeding and injured does Verde lift a finger. Not even when he finds him tucked away in a corner smelling strongly of metal and sticky sweetness. He may have a rivalry/hatred for Reborn, that arrogant hitman, but it's Skull that has his distain and hostility.

So when he realizes with a start that _Skull_ was a _soldier, a child soldier_ , he suddenly understands.

What he doesn't understand is the vague feeling of guilt creeping into his stomach.

No, actually he understands that, but he really doesn't want to think about it.

He doesn't think of those times that Skull was bleeding because of protecting him and as he walked away leaving him on the floor. He doesn't want to think about those times he send prototypes after the 'Immortal' Skull and waiting and watching in glee as the Cloud comes back every time as if nothing has happened.

Verde is a scientist. His morals are screwed and he knows that very well.

But he respects soldiers, because a soldier once showed him something he still treasures to this day. Verde makes prosthetics and weapons for soldiers. He makes armor and vests and better guns, better equipment and he does it for _soldiers._

Skull is a _child soldier._

 _Skull is a **soldier.**_

Verde feels every single analysis, every single bit of data and research into Skull, just as suddenly as his words, become outdated. Flawed and incorrect. Useless and lies.

His entire perspective into Skull shifts and settles into place and _he understand now._

Purple armor, that is what his suit is. His gloved hands, the helmet he was rarely see without, the make-up so thickly layered and _Skull is a soldier._

Verde isn't one to offer information of his personal life, what very little there is and he would _never_ speak of his early years so there isn't anyone who knows his about his dedication to the care of veterans and damaged soldiers, regardless of what country.

When Skull collapses, Verde has already run through every emotional and metal illness, every trauma-induced behavior, bodily reactions and times he's seen Skull anything but awake and he comes to a very grim conclusion.

So he doesn't complain when he's roped into helping with the Cloud. He doesn't complain as they drive back to their house. He doesn't say anything as they all exchange glances and understand that they can see what's under Skull's clothing.

Later, he'll wish he had complained. Later, when he feels guilty because Skull was solider who is so clearly damaged.

…

Lal Mirch is a solider. A very specific type of soldier, but still a soldier. It was her career, what she wanted to do, what she _choose._ It was her dream, where she fit in, where she _belonged._ It was natural and she _loved it._

Skull was a child. A boy, barely on the cusp of manhood and he claimed to be a _soldier._ Lal had to stop herself from shouting "bullshit!" at the boy when he spoke those words.

She's seen lots of soldiers. Broken, shattered, young and old and everything in-between. She's never seen one like Skull. Well, she's seen something close to what Skull is, but he _cannot_ be a soldier at such a young age. They do not accept _children_ into the Armed Forces and he quite clearly spoke of 'relatives' and 'school' and other _normal_ people, so he couldn't have been from any country that did allow _children_ into the military.

His English is tinted with a British accent.

But then she sees Viper's reaction to the French name and she sees Reborn's _lack_ of reaction and that's always ten times worse and she understands it's something _they_ know about and they're _horrified._ She hasn't seen Viper show that much emotion since the Curse originally came on them. She sees Fon and that look on his face speaks of _understanding_ that tugs at her heart and the way Verde looks almost _guilty._ She doesn't look at Colonello, doesn't dare. Colonello is an all-time big brother figure and the Rain has over-protective, _violent_ tendencies. Skull isn't in the little brother category, but he's a fellow soldier and Colonello is _older_ and they were Rain and Cloud in the same set, under the same Sky, so she doesn't look at the blond soldier.

She's still not looking at him when Skull is on the ground and she's pressing a damp cloth to his flushed cheeks and she doesn't glance at him when they start to unzip his zippers to his jacket.

Soon, when they carefully pull it off and meaningful silence, heavy and weighted falls on them, she doesn't think to not look at him because she's too busy staring at _Skull's chest._ His _arms._ His gloves are off, her hands are steady as they wipe away smeared make-up and peel the tape back to reveal even more scars.

So many scars, _everywhere._ From burns, knives, wire, _chains,_ and God only knows what else and Lal ignores the burning in her eyes and carefully peels off his undershirt, stifling a gasp at the ones littering over vital and fatal areas. They all clearly remember when their Cloud has shouted so obnoxiously, in that stupid high-pitched voice, "the Immortal Skull-sama that even Death hates!".

These scars are of torture and frenzied dashes through barbed wire and holes and slices and Lal feels sick. She doesn't even what to think about that _brand_ on _his chest._ She wants to slaughter every single person that did this to Skull. She _is_ going to slaughter everyone that had a hand in this.

Skull may be immortal and he may heal from everything, but the scars remain, telling a story far more detailed than that basic outline he spat out drunkenly at the bar. Colonello's hands reach under his body, lifting it with just a little too much ease and Lal hears his footsteps towards Skull's room. She's still crouched on the floor and still _not looking at Colonello._

…

He wonders if his hands are shaking. It feels like they're shaking, but as he discreetly glances down, barely glimpsing them in the darkened light of the bar, he sees they're perfectly still. They do not shake even as Skull continues with his word vomit. He doesn't flinch, he knows nothing is showing on his face, he is aware of the fact that Lal isn't looking at him. He concentrating on breathing and listening and it takes everything in his words to stay still, keep still because Skull is still speaking.

He hears what the Cloud is saying, he understands his words but he can't grasp it because it's so impossible that Skull is a soldier. He can't be. Soldier have reflexes and shadows in their eyes, pride in their weapons and some are so broken, but he can read them all because he's a soldier too. Some are missing limbs and pieces of their sanity and other have destructive cooping methods and-

He takes a breath and tried not to break something or someone.

He can hear what Skull isn't saying and he sees the stressed words and bitter _angry_ broken sarcasm against this 'Dumbledore' and he _understands._

Raised in an abusive household, taken to a better place where his is famous and everyone want to shake his hand and then told what his parents died for wasn't enough. Told he must die to save those who care about him for the first time in his life and he can see the manipulations so clearly. A part of him remembers all those things Skull always caught that they threw at him. Remembers how he never dodged kicks or punches, just bullets and knives and how he claimed he had a fear of trees and suburban homes.

When Skull is laying so still and Lal is there, still not looking at him, Colonello knows even though a part of him is numb, he must be radiating Flames because everyone is calm. When Skull is curled up so small and vulnerable in the car and Lal still won't look at him, he knows the numbness is fading. When they're taking off his clothes and he _sees the scars_ , he goes to pick him up and she won't _look_ at him and he can't look at her for fear of what he'll see on her face.

When he walks back out, an hour later, after Skull's throw up and he's forced him to drink water and listened to the cries for the dead and screams for someone to ' _stop, please stop, not her, I'm the one he wants, just please!'_ Lal finally looks at him.

There's no condemnation, no accusation or blame in her eyes, and he thinks that's okay because there's enough in his to balance his anger so he doesn't go out and beat someone to death. And so he sits at the table, and wonders how he could have been so blind, so stupid and how _none_ of them _ever_ saw this before.

He doesn't have an answer.

Then again, neither does anyone else.

…

Yuni saw Skull for what he was when she first met him. Someone broken and tired and trying desperately to pretend he was as he acted. Care-free, a little stupid, but something like determination and strength showed when it was needed. She understood why he pretended to be weak. She understood so very well because before her mother died she pretended to be weak too.

It's so no one asks them to defend others, to protect them. No one asks them to lead the charge or fight the good fight. No one asks them for help, for advice and no one blames them for their mistakes 'cause it's _expected._

Then all of a sudden, Yuni had to be strong, be brave, lead the others and carry their lives on her shoulders. She had to decided to follow through even if people she cared about died for the good of the whole Earth. She had to accept death and she couldn't be a child, she couldn't be weak. She had to support those that should have been supporting her and lead those that should have been leading her.

She saw that mark clearly on Skull.

She never made fun of him or called him names. She was kind to him and smiled when she felt he was sad and sat next to him in silence when she wanted to rest. Still, he never came to her when he needed someone. He simply pretended he needed no one at all. Her heart ached because she could not betray the fragile trust he had in her by revealing his closely guarded secrets.

That is, until the curse was broken and there was nothing to stop him from leaving, from breaking and shattering. It was so very easy to slip some _Veritaserum_ into Skull's drink and have everyone ask questions of each other. It was so easy to ensure he would tell them everything, to make sure that everyone could understand that their Cloud, their strong, _strong,_ brave Cloud was so broken and they _were hurting him._ She didn't know his secrets were so deep or so bloody. She had no idea Skull DeMort was once called Harry Potter. She was almost ashamed of herself. Guilt for forcing him to do this, for ignoring his desires to remain hidden and safe. Shame for baring her Skull to the blinded eyes of his fellow Arcobaleno. She thinks this, if it were known what she's done, would be something of a betrayal and she is ashamed, she is sorry...

Right up until the moment when all the Arcobaleno, save Skull, gathered at the table like they did so long ago in another life and she saw they understood too. Yuni smiles to herself, a quite moment of triumph, in the darkness of the house that her grandmother spent her last days as an adult with her Arcobaleno.

 _Finally._

 **A/N This is not connected to Everybody Lies and Everybody Dies. It is independent and stands alone.**

 **Thanks!**

 **Yours,**

 **NP**


	3. Chapter 3

Previously:

 _He got drunk last night._

 _They had undressed him and seen his scars._

 _Scars he had made more visible by walking about of his room shirtless._

 _The thought came, followed closely by horror._

/~\

 _They know my secrets._

Skull recovered remarkably quickly, shooting to his feet and whirling about to dart out the door. The brush of fingers against his arm triggered an automatic response, one he had not used in many years, but was brought around by the panic and adrenaline that flooded his system. It was in this instant, Skull forgot himself. There was dread and fear, a mix of horror and desperate pleading, emotions that had been so familiar for so long _, years ago._ He forgot where he was, those beside him and fell so easily into his instincts from the War.

And Harry bled into Skull and the Cloud vanished and in his place stood Harry Potter, the Man-Who-Conquered. His magical aura skyrocketed, followed quickly by his killing intent. Now, Harry had been totally unaware of Flames until the first mission the Arcobaleno had taken together. Nonetheless, he quickly learned. Just like he learned how to destroy a person with solely his magical aura from Voldemort, while ironically, his killing intent was learned from Reborn. Two monsters in their strength that Skull had learned and adapted for his own use and protection.

He had refined and practiced it on his own, away from the others. When he got to the point where it came as easily as breathing with a twist of _will_ , he was fascinated. All the times he had hatred and anger overflowing and this had never happened. It was by chance when he realized that one needed to let the air around you become infused with your Flames and layer certain thoughts and emotions into your fire. Whatever you were thinking of, layering your thoughts into that power from your soul, it could change the feel from cold and chilling, as if you were staring Death in the face, to burning and suffocating, as if you had traveled to the bowls of Hell. There were so many ways you could use intent in your Flames. And he tried them all.

Magical auras were different, yet had the same principle. Layering emotions into your magic, only to let it expand and fill you up until you were almost overflowing. It was easily felt, even by non-magicals and by far the easiest thing Harry had ever learned. The Dark Lord had made it into a challenge, a slur and sheer terror overpowering your senses, like a cold hand on your throat and blood on your lips. Harry did it just a little bit differently.

So when he felt that touch, as he was trying to escape, he let go.

 _Hatred and vengeance._

Memories flashed unbidden of the piles of bodies they had gathered to be burned, least Voldemort return them as Inferi. He remembered the torture he had faced, the fear he had overcome, his search for the Horcruxes, only to find in the end he was one. And Dumbledore _(the mentor he had trusted)_ had raised a martyr with a savior-complex.

 _Betrayal, agony._

Harry remember Bellatix and her insanity, Voldemort and the way he _laughed_ at the dead. The _children_ Harry himself had trained, his _friends_ and _Teddy's parents._

 _Burning, so cold. Ice and fire burning in the midst of them._

It was so easy for Harry to remember the old days as he took a hold of that arm, twisted so easily, Flames and magic strengthening him as he pulled and pushed them harshly to the ground. He couldn't feel the comforting warmth of holly and phoenix feather in his hand, but he could use a couple curses wandlessly and he had his Flames so he wasn't that concerned. He hesitated for an instant, a denial screaming in the back of his head. Something that warned of mistakes and danger. He wanted to see the man underneath him.

Time slowed as he took in wide _(familiar)_ blue eyes, tinged with something like fear and _(annoyingly)_ blonde hair ruffling in the wind his power was creating. He knew what he looked like. One eye glowing purple with the deep purity of his Flames, the other, shining _Avada Kadavra_ green from his magic. It made for an awesome _death-glare_ when he was especially angry or determined and it had scared the crap out of the newbie Death Munchers.

He paused though, half-way between determination and confusion because he couldn't bring himself to speak the word. He had been able to pull off wandless _Diffindo_ a week after Malfoy Manner. Strong enough to cut through even iron and stone, without a doubt, the whisper of the word could tear through blue eye's throat. His hand at the man's heart would send either Flames or magic deep into his tissue to stop it just as easily. He was prepared to do it. He shouldn't hesitate, no matter how much he wanted to. Hermione was probably fighting Death Eaters of her own but Ron, where was _Ron?_ He shifted ever so slightly to see off to the side and he didn't see anyone he immediately recognized.

( _RebornLalMirchVerdeViperYuni, comrades, a part of him whisper insistently. Don't you recognize Colonello?)_

He paused. And awareness slowly came that there was something off with him. Something was wrong and his hands began to tremble faintly.

 _Breath. In. Out._

"Skull. Calm down."

Smooth, cultured, and aristocratic _(Reborn, you know Reborn. You call him sempai.)_ broke through the confusion and Harry lifted his head to look blankly into dark, dark eyes _(not red)._ Like a bolt of lightening realization came back to him.

He was Skull...

Not Harry…?

There was no war ( _it ended, you ended it, a voice called Reason soothed_ ).

Hermione had married Ron, they had two kids ( _Not fighting anymore, they had both survived_ ).

Neville was alive. He married Hannah. They were happy ( _Neville the hero, strong and brave. Hannah, bright and kind, always with a gentle smile and hope_ ).

Luna was fine. She was married and she had children and she _was fine._ ( _Luna, with her Nargles and Heliopaths and so very clever)_

His thoughts began to clear. He was not in Britain. He was not fighting a war. He wasn't the general, wasn't the only hope _(not a martyr)._

He was Skull, one of the Arcobaleno. The Cloud, under the Sky, born from a necessity from the Dursleys' and the Hunt. Perhaps he had once been a Sky. Before Voldemort had taken everyone he held dear. Well…almost everyone.

His magic flared again, this time in order to regain control, not to push his enemies into submission. His heart was racing and his lunges ached but the panic was fading and the shakes in his hands were dying. He took a breath. And another and slowly eased off of Colonello, that idiot Rain, scooting back onto the floor, releasing his intent and aura. He placed his palms firmly on the wood and just _breathed_.

The wind and the fire and the ice, vengeance and hatred, betrayal and agony, the weight lifted from where Yuni was crumpled on the ground, tears staining her cheeks. Viper wasn't much better, even for the lack of tears on their face. Fon had paled and moved quickly to a spot where he could move to stop any sudden movements that the Cloud might have made towards the rest of them. Verde had his hands curled around a small, flickering green flame as he watched intently, ever the scientist, his brain working furiously with the new information he was taking in.

 _In._

 _Hold._

 _Out._

"You know that feeling," he whispered slowly, ignoring the startled flinch from the sudden change to his voice, into smooth, lilting tones contrary from the usual high-pitched and grating, "when a light flashes so brightly and so loudly in front of you and everything shuts down? You can't really think clearly, but you remember when you were at your worst so you know that even if you're in a bad place you'll walk out?"

It was half a rhetorical question, half just because he wanted to break the silence, so he continued without an answer.

"Or even when you discover what you thought was _normal_ for your entire life, only to find out it was completely _wrong_ so you have to pretend to be someone you were never allowed to be?"

He laughed shakily, bitterness and something else the others couldn't identify in the sound.

"It was so easy the first time, you know? The second time? To pretend to be that person? That person who is the most annoying, undoubtedly the weakest? The one you don't even think of if you're in trouble and need help. That person that no one counts on to fight battles or protect those you love. I realized it then, it was so easy after I went five years without ever hearing from a single one of you."

Sk- Harry lifted his head and smirked, something like triumph and sorrow glittering madly in his eyes.

"I was expected to _save everyone_. I made those around me _a target_ , just by existing. I was responsible for the living, so I trained them. I was responsible for the dead and I mourned all of them. It was my fight, my army, my enemies. I was their general, their leader, their weapon. One moment the world loved me and the next, they cursed my name."

A tear slid down his face and Yuni flinched at the sight of it, having picked herself up from the floor, but Harry continued, ignoring the guilt and heartbreak on her face. He knew her type, her kind only too well.

"I was _so happy_ that all of you were _so blind_ to what I am, that you treated me like a weakling and a coward. That you looked at _me_ and saw _nothing_. You didn't see the aftermaths of my nightmares, you didn't see the way I moved, breathed nor did you even _suspect_."

Skull smiled. Wide and arrogantly, twisting in his face into something that was totally out of place before he spoke again.

"I am as Death, you know? My secrets are not meant for man to know least the Earth be plunged into darkness. And now you know enough to start looking and start guessing, right? Regardless, I can't stay with you any longer."

With another broken smile, Harry took a deep breath, ignoring how Reborn's eyes narrowed, Viper raising their hands, and Colonello's reflexive grab as he Apparated with a silent displacement of air.

Reborn bit off a vicious curse, his hand reaching up to tug sharply at a fedora that was _not_ there. He snarled and spat several other equally vicious curses in several different languages, spinning on his heel to take in the looks of the rest of the Arcobaleno. From the thin, pressed lips and cold expression on Fon's face, to Viper's visible swirling Flames, down to Colonello and Lal Mirch's troubled countenance, to rest briefly on Verde's somber expression. However, it was _Yuni's_ face, _her_ expression that gave him pause. Guilt and hesitation, painted so clearly, paired with a reluctance to meet the gaze of those nearest to her.

Anger sparked high and burned bright in him as he _glared_ at his Sky.

" _What_ did you _do?_ "

The girl looked a bit startled at the accusation and harsh tone that man she had always called 'Uncle Reborn' took with her, but she answered anyway, knowing she had the best intentions but went about them wrongly.

"I," she began tentatively, "I slipped a truth serum into Skull's drink."

Reborn took a menacing step forward.

" _Why?"_

She gave a sad, knowing smile, so like the ones in the future she had worn when she _knew_ something, so much like Aria and so very much like Luce.

"He was going to leave," she whispered, her voice resigned and matter-of-factly, "He was going to disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. He would have gone to see his friends, his family, those that had survived, but he wouldn't have stayed for long. He would have left within a year."

She finally lifted her gaze, heavy with sorrow and certainty.

"He would have then spend the rest of his life trying to end it. Going from dangerous stunts, to downright suicide attempts. And finally in the end, in utter desperation and a half-hearted hope, he would throw himself into the veil of death that once claimed his godfather. Unfortunately, he would only be condemned to spend eternity in cold slumber. Immortals can only die when certain requirements are met. Skull has met none of his," she finished in a trembling voice.

Reborn took a deeply controlled breath and shot a look a Verde, who simply looked back with the expression of incomprehension and what looked like _guilt_. Yuni quickly shook her head.

"No, Skull's requirements come straight from Death, his servant."

A stilted silence weight heavily on the Arcobaleno and the small movement Fon made as his visibly tensed caught the attention of the others. He took several calming breaths, his hands clenching against his forearms as he closely closed his eyes before opening them to stare at Yuni before he spoke quietly.

"A story passed down through the generations of my family spoke of a story of three gifts to three brothers from Death. It was said that whoever gathers the power to change, to resurrect and to hide from Death, they would become the Master of Death. The only line from these three that survived to pass on their gift to the next generation was the youngest brother who requested the ability to hide from Death. The other two, were lost. Scattered across the Earth and passed from hand to hand."

Yuni nodded solemnly, her eyes glittering orange and rimmed with tears.

"Skull is descended from the youngest brother, the one who was gifted with an invisibility cloak to hide from Death. Voldemort stole the wand away from a man who had defeated its former master in combat, but before his death, the one before Voldemort manipulated Skull into taking the last, the Stone that would resurrect the dead. Since the day he walked willingly to his death to spare the lives of others, with no regard for his own, all three of the Deathly Hallows accepted him as their master and were thus bound to him for eternity."

Yuni's voice was steady, if not quieter then intended, but she took a deep breath and continued on, raising her eyes to meet the gazes of her Elements.

"If you wish to know, I will tell you. But you must be sure. You must be absolutely sure you _want_ to _know this._ Because once I speak of Death and blood, of the horrors, you will never forget them."

* * *

Harry didn't know where he was.

Okay, that wasn't exactly true, he appareted here so he must have _known_ where he was going as he didn't splinch himself. He knew he was in the Forbidden Forest. He knew he had bolted from wherever he had landed, giving in to his desperate need to just _run away_ , but as he stumbled into a clearing that was all too familiar, he wished he had gone anywhere else. He righted himself, gaining his balance and forced himself to solider on. Just one step at a time.

Until his hands started shaking. And his breath quickened and he could feel the whispers of the death and of the darkness just at the edge of his senses. It was cold. And his body was trembling. He had just barely reached that same place where he had fallen _so many years ago_ when his knees gave out and he tripped and collapsed against the dirt.

He took choked breaths, great heaving gasps, wishing and praying for _something to stop the pain_ and his hands fisted over the place his heart still continued to beat. His nightmares were mostly of the dead, of blood and the war, but he always woke up with the sensation of his heart stopping. Of his breathing suddenly halting. Death was neither a mercy nor a relief.

Tears began to trickle down Harry's face as he _screamed_ into the soft dirt and sobbed and _wished and prayed_ he could go back to being _Skull_ again. He could forget if they nightmares could not find him. He could forget so long as he looked into the mirror and saw himself dyed in purple. He could _forget the hell_ if he wore tight leather and a helmet where it wasn't necessary to make faces to go with his act, simply the voice.

It had been over thirty years.

In the aftermath of the Final Battle at Hogwarts, it wasn't the adults that took charge. It wasn't the Aurors, the Ministry Officials, it wasn't the teachers, the professors, it was Harry Potter. It was Harry Potter who marched into the Ministry of Magic and sat one Hermione Granger in the seat for Minister and proclaimed to the living that he was Harry- _fragging_ -Potter and _this is what was going to happen._

He renamed it. The Minister _for_ Magic, the very first one was a first generation witch, Hermione Granger. And then he walked out, still wearing his blood covered clothes, still bandaged and bleeding and Hermione Granger stood up and began shouting orders. The survivors that day were in shock so they did as she asked without questions or opposition. It took almost a week before there was a protest. They were too late, however.

For all that everyone underestimated her, put her down either because of her blood or her gender, Hermione Granger had been and was ready to change to Wizarding World. She had started with Hogwarts. When fifth year came about, she moved to the Ministry. So naturally, when Harry asked her for her material on Hogwarts, she gave it gladly. In the week that the escapees, the cowards, the weak and those that didn't fight took to regain their ground, Harry Potter had torn down the traditions of Hogwarts with the help of his friends and those he trained to survive and remade it in the image of Hermione Granger.

Money was short, teachers were scarce, but when the new term would start up, the word, 'muggle' would be erased from any and all material in the school. It was replaced with, 'mundane' just as 'muggleborn' was exchanged for 'first generation'. The newly named Mundane Studies was updated and actually included science, English literature, world history, math and even several books on chemistry. Wizarding Studies was expanded to include wizarding history, foreign magicks and countries, the celebrations of old and the evolution of how magic was performed throughout the centuries. Classes were added such as Music, Dancing and Languages and clubs were established. Dueling, Healing and the Defense Association was now considered mandatory for every single student third year and up.

It was Harry, during those short seven days, that pulled together the survivors and offered them jobs to teach next year's classes. It was Harry that said things were going to be okay now, that everyone was going to help make sure something like this could never happen again.

Several Hufflepuffs stepped forward and stated their intentions for a magical orphanage. Ravenclaws spoke of informing first generation magicals as soon as they would appear on the Hogwarts Register and to go and make sure the child would not alone nor confused. They would make sure the child would be safe. The Slytherins, the ones whose loyalty belonged to Harry Potter, they elected Daphne Greengrass to work alongside the new Minister for Magic to aide her and guide her through everything the Minister would wish to accomplish.

The Griffindors managed to design their own uniforms and proclaim themselves the new Magical Law Enforcement Agency, led by Susan Bones who had her late aunt's files and stories to rely on. They were children themselves, but they were more than that. They were soldiers and survivors and _they_ were the ones that had _fought_ and _bled_ and _sacrificed_ for what they had _believed in_. They were ashamed of their parents who had either joined the Death Eaters or had fled the country. They were determined for anything like this would ever happen

Those that had lost friends and family threw themselves into rebuilding. Either their homes, Diagon Alley, Hogwarts, St. Mungo's, or the Ministry. The school was still a rally point with Madame Pomfrey and her infirmary, the libraries and the dormitories. The House Eleves had opened long un-used wings and set up beds for those whose homes had been destroyed.

It was this, that Harry Potter and his allies did in the aftermath.

It took only five years for the changes to be accepted by the general public, not surprising considered the entire surviving members of the next generation refused to be swayed by petty things such as money, blood or traditions. It took another five years for the changes begin to make a noticeable difference with the appearance of a brand new generation stepping through the door of Hogwarts, those who had no part in the Wizarding War. Needless it say, it was a vastly different society under the rule of Harry Potter's Defense Association. Now, it didn't matter where you came from. Now, first generations had years to understand and control their magic, to read and learn about Wizarding culture. Orphans were adopted, either by blood or by law, and now no magical child had to endure abuse at the hands of the ignorant and the fearful.

There would not be another Tom Riddle.

But Harry Potter was not there to see it through.

Those close to him, those who had fought by and on his side and those that stood with him against the world, _they_ understood. Which is why they let the Daily Prophet publish their lies about the Man-Who-Conquered before Luna Lovegood exposed the truth for everyone to see how much everyone else had failed. They trusted Harry. So, they understood and they accepted it even when Harry turned strange about seeing them, even though the letters and the presents didn't stop. They understood when they were in danger they couldn't handle or out of their depths, _someone_ would show up to help. A flicker at the corner of your eye. They all knew it was him. The Potter Luck was a very real thing and they knew that something had happened, those who were alive and well thanks to Harry, they who understood and didn't try to find him.

This was unchanged throughout the years so, over three decades later when a very familiar magical signature popped up in the Forbidden Forest, there were only two people that were sent out to greet him.

* * *

Yuni took a deep, fortifying breath and gently blew it out before she continued with her Elements staring at her expectantly.

"In the last days of the war, Skull lost a lot of people. His godfather, honorary uncle, his wife, a loyal friend, his friend's twin and several children he had taught and trained in hopes that they survived. He spent a year on the run where there was a cycle they repeated, just him and his best friends, a cycle of running, getting caught, getting tortured, escaping, breaking into places and repeating. Over and over again for a year. They broke into a bank guarded by a warrior race, magial enchantments, dragons and they remain the only people in the history of it's existence that succeeded in breaking in, taking something out and then getting away scot-free. On the back of one of their prized dragons no less."

Yuni paused, some part of her half expecting Reborn to scoff and deny someone like Skull could pull off something like that. The faces and expressions that greeted her were the exact same as when she began. Hard and stone-cold. Obviously they had prepared themselves to hear the worst. She closed her eyes briefly and sighed.

"In the Final Battle, Voldemort attacked the school holding what was left of the resistance besides Skull, his friends and several adults. On that day, nearing the end of the battle, Voldemort called for a cease-fire since some Death Eaters were reluctant to kill their children or the children of other Death Eaters. He called for Skull to walk into the Forbidden Forest and to die and he would stop. Voldemort promised to spare the lives of his friends. Those left, anyway. And he did.

"Without hesitation, or regret, Skull walked into that forest…and died. Some have said he spoke with the souls of his parents, of his godfather and his godson's father. Some said Dumbledore himself came and eased his way back into the world of the living. Skull never spoke of it outside a certain group of people. The man who Dumbledore sent to rescue him from his abusiv-"

Yuni attempted to control her breathing at the sound of wood imploding, the muffled curses in various languages and the distinct noise of teeth grinding. She carefully avoided looking in the direction of whoever was the cause of that and kept her eyes firmly away from the Arcobaleno. She continued after a moment, urging her voice to remain steady.

"Abusive," she repeated, making sure they now understood _what the hell_ they had been doing to Skull all these years, "relatives. Hagrid was Skull's first friend and he loved him for taking him away from his relatives. Hagrid was always trying to get him to eat more as he was concerned with the state of his appearance as a short, thin child as he had know both Skull's parents when they were his age. Hagrid was the one that ended up carrying his body into what remained of the entrance of Hogwarts.

"When Skull woke up, he quickly went back to work and waited for his friends to finish with the last Horcrux before he used the nastiest, borderline dark spell on Voldemort, seconds after he offered him a chance to regret. It was Neville Longbottom who killed the snake that was the second living soul holder for Voldemort, allowed Skull to finish him off. It was during the weeks and months after Skull basically took over the magical government, drastically changing everything he could get either his or his friend's hands on. Hermione Granger is a brilliant first generation witch that he was friends with since he first saved her life from his first year. She had great plans that he used in his total take-over of the British Magical Government. Everyone who he had trained and fought with jumped on the band wagon and basically staged a coup."

Here, Yuni paused again and dropped her gaze to her hands.

"It was barely six months after when Skull left the Wizarding World and continued to lend his services to his friends when they needed. This continued for several months before he got into stunt-driving. He chose the motorcycle and it was only a week later he had his first fatal accident. He immediately understood that whatever had happened, it had to do with the Deathly Hallows which, incidentally, he had possession and ownership of all before he was killed with the wand."

Seeing the faint twitch in Verde's expression as Yuni peeked through her lashes, she gave a hurried explanation.

"The Wand that holds great power, forged by Death itself. The Ring that calls forth the shades of the dead and the invisibility cloak which hides you from everyone, even Death. These make up the Deathly Hallows."

She cleared her throat and hesitated before she moved on.

"Skull attempted to…he needed proof of his…of what he thought was happening to him. There were several… _attempts_ … and stunts he used to… _verify_ …his beliefs before he realized that no matter how badly damaged he was, he would continue to walk away. The level of insane and impossible stunts increased to the point where he earned the name, 'Skull the Great, He Who Death Hates!'. That was a very dark time for him and his friends intervened before it could escalate to more serious attempts...well, before Checkerface came."

The tension in the room was practically suffocating as each of the Elements realized that Skull had basically tried to killed himself via direct and indirect ways that only stopped due to others intervening. That was a sobering realization. Yuni did not want to go, did not want to speak of his reasons, either Skull's nor Checkerface's. She did not want to do this, because she knew where this would force her to go. The others clearly saw this, but kept silent as she spoke again.

"Checkerface saw what he was instantly and decided he would take no other Cloud for the Arcobaleno. Because," Yuni bit her lip and try as she might, she could not force her voice higher than a whisper, "because a Sky who was born powerful enough to rival Luce, but through abuse, captivity, war and a deluded old man's manipulations became an even more powerful Cloud, was a thing he had never expected to find in all his millennia of existence."

There was a beat of stunned, horrified silence before Reborn stood up. He took one very controlled step forward before whirling around and making for the door. Every move he made, it was clear, he was using an extraordinary amount of control to keep himself from slaughtering someone. Yuni simply sat still as the remaining Arcobaleno stood and followed him. Once they had left the room, only then did the Sky stand and make her own way outside to stand on the porch, overlooking as they tried to keep control of their _rage, guilt_ and _shame._ Still, Yuni couldn't keep some words to herself, for the way they had made Skull _suffer_ and made him _watch_ as they _laughed_ at him and _hurt him, over_ and _over again._

"You cannot begin to understand what it would take for a Sky, _a damned Sky_ , to convert and suppress his Flames so thoroughly that there wasn't even a _hint_ of _orange_ in his brilliant _purple_ Flames," she spoke neutrally, in only a shade of mocking sincerity, "Congratulations. Over the last thirty years, you looked at Harry Potter, immortal _hero_ , the _savior_ of Wizarding Britain, who ended two wars and re-built the entire magical government of Britain to his satisfaction, who endured torture that left s _cars_ even when treated by _Flames, potions_ and _magic,_ you looked at him and saw a _weak, spineless coward_."

They didn't move under the weight of her accusations, facts as they were, even as her voice never rose and never shifted from the conversational tone she was using.

"So congratulations, as if the abuse that he grew up with wasn't enough. As if the threat of death and torture he faced since he was eleven years old, both mentally, emotionally and physically wasn't enough, oh _no,_ everything you said to him, of his weakness, of his cowardice, of how he couldn't even protect himself, much less anyone else. You must be so proud of yourself for reminding a _war hero_ of all those he failed to save, of all those he _watched die in front of his eyes._ Skull, who on the very first mission he took as an Arcobaleno didn't have a clue what Flames were, but he was faced with someone getting injured so he _learned_ to _protect you_."

"Enough."

It was a whisper on the wind, so quiet Yuni couldn't tell who had spoken, but she continued, the image of Skull, beaten and broken and _alone_ still firmly in her mind and what she had done to him only last night.

"Skull, born a Sky and _forced_ into a Cloud's mentality. Skull whose instincts warred with one another, one of a traumatized war veteran, an abused child, a _Sky_ , a _Cloud._ Skull, who every time his Sky Flames tried to come through every _single one of you_ shut him down and sent him spiraling into depression because there must be something _wrong_ with him, which on top of that, he was trying so desperately to either keep what was left of his sanity or just damn well _die alre_ -"

" _ **Enough."**_

It was Reborn who spoke. In a voice of grief, pleading, an edge of anger and silken steel. He choked on a breath, half snarl and half sob, reaching up to hide his face with his fedora.

And Yuni bowed her head, a tear running down her cheek.

"I had to _watch,"_ she whispered, her voice rough and heavy and just barely touching _accusing_ , "I had to _watch_ everyday. I had to _dream_ and _see it all_. And every single one of you were all so damned _blind._ "

She reached up a trembling hand to wipe away her tears and asked in a heartbroken voice, barely audible, although everyone heard it.

"Why couldn't you have just _seen_ it? Why couldn't you have heard his screams at night? Caught a flash of shadows in his eyes? The way his shoulders stooped and how he could barely eat in the presence of others? _Anything? Something?_ "

Yuni closed her eyes and huddled down to hug her knees and cried silently. She only looked up when a warm jacket, smelling of espresso and gunpowder was draped over her small shoulders. She lifted her gaze to the dark, mournful eyes of Reborn.

"We'll find him," he said to her, his tone weighted with meaning, guilty and apologetic all wrapped in a solemn promise, "We'll find him."

But Yuni only shook her head and asked a single question.

"What makes you think he wants a single one of _you_ to find him?"

* * *

 **A/N Well. This did not go as I had intended. You ever try to write two fictions of the exact same crossover with the exact same idea and get two very not really separate ideas so crossed you made a one-shot, into a two-shot, into a three-shot into a multi-chapter story? Ugh. This will continue! There is too much I want to write!**

 **Also, _wolfsrainrules_ had written a story (called _Slip Up_ ) based off of this and _Everyone Lies and Everyone Dies,_ so when I read it I go all warm and gooey because that fiction is like my grandchild. My awesome grandchild. Bless.**

 **Anyway!**

 **This is actually not the last chapter but I had to update because, seriously, my adorable readers have been so patient with my crap. So here's to you!**

 **Thanks y'all!**


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